The BBL is dead, but we still aren’t free

There’s been a shift in the dominant beauty aesthetic. The exaggerated curves of the BBL era are fading. In their place: toned bodies, jawlines sharp enough to cut glass, buccal fat removals, and a surge in “old money” minimalism. Scroll through TikTok or the Instagram feeds of luxury influencers and you’ll see the same formula: low-maintenance looks that actually require a lot of maintenance.

But is this really a move toward authenticity and self-acceptance? Or is it just another beauty trend, dressed up in baby pink Pilates gear, a Stanley Cup, and Western branding?

The BBL Era

The BBL look—tiny waist, oversized hips and butt, face full of filler—rocked the 2010s. It was everywhere: Instagram, music videos, celebrity culture. In the Arab world, you saw it across Lebanese pop, Gulf influencers, and women chasing the hyper-feminine aesthetic sold by the Kardashians and Haifa Wehbe.

What began as a niche procedure in Brazil turned into a global beauty phenomenon. According to the International Society of Aesthetic Plastic Surgery (ISAPS), BBLs surged throughout the 2010s, while filler use skyrocketed in lips, cheeks, and jawlines. Celebrities normalized the look, and then new Instagram filters exaggerated it. Med spas made it accessible. By the late 2010s, you didn’t need to be rich to get the look—you just needed a payment plan.

That’s where the real shift began.

Now, we’re in the middle of a rebrand. Influencers are dissolving fillers. Celebrities are opting for “subtle tweaks.” Kim Kardashian removed her butt implants, and Kylie removed half her lip filler. The new look is leaner, sleeker, quieter.

Ozempic and other GLP-1 weight-loss injectables are slimming bodies silently and quickly, especially among the wealthy, who can afford the $400–1000/month price tag. There’s buccal fat removal to hollow out cheeks, sugar threads to tighten skin, and Baby Botox instead of the frozen face—all under the umbrella of natural beauty.

The aesthetic du jour is still highly curated, but now it’s pretending not to be. TikTok’s “clean girl aesthetic” has over 6 billion views and counting. Skincare brands, aesthetic clinics, and luxury influencers all push the same formula: sleek bun, dewy skin, light contour, Pilates-toned derriere. The idea is to seem effortless, but the effort (and cash) behind it is so real.

The Class Angle

Beauty trends have always been coded by class. Colored contacts were once trendy in 2000 (believe it or not), but now they’re labeled incredibly “be*2a.” I add an asterisk because it should be considered a slur. The same fate has also befallen lash extensions, overdrawn lips, and skinny jeans. Ouch.

When procedures become accessible, they lose value as status symbols. What used to scream money now reads as “trying too hard.” Kylie lips, once aspirational, are now over. The girls who ran to get lash extensions in 2018 are now posting no-makeup selfies after a vampire facial and three-step laser treatment. 

This shift mirrors a broader cultural swing toward quiet luxury. It’s not just fashion anymore, it’s beauty, too. If expensive now looks like nothing at all, why does it cost so much?

“Money screams, wealth whispers” isn’t just about a quiet Bottega handbag. It’s a subtle syringe in your jawline and a Pilates body sculpted by a personal trainer. Capitalism has truly gotten creative.

But that’s in the West; what’s happening on the ground in the Middle East? Some might frame this shift as a rebellion against the exaggerated and artificial. But that’s misleading. What’s happening is not a rejection of Western ideals—it’s just a new edition. 

This humble writer was determined to find out just how much Western beauty ideals and trends impact Arab women. Not just in conversation, but real money spent, absolute and irreversible procedures, so I talked to one of the best practitioners in the region, Dr. Ahmed Kenawy. His plastic surgery clinic pulls in clients from across the MENA, so his experience with patients from different backgrounds was perfect for my purposes. 

Dr. Ahmed Kenawy puts it plainly:

“It’s not that simple. The way Western beauty ideals impact patients’ aesthetic preferences is straightforward but not all-encompassing… Someone with a privileged background is more likely to be impacted by Western trends, like thinner bodies. The younger the patient, the more ‘trendy’ his/her preferences will be, but those same ideals will likely stick with them for life.”

If you grew up idolizing Kim K’s body in 2007, chances are that standard lives somewhere in you still. But for the next generation, the aesthetic references are changing. Someone in a New Cairo compound might aspire to Zendaya. In Faisal, Yasmine Sabry’s curves still dominate the mood board.

“It’s not that people have stopped asking for BBLs altogether. It’s just that the 25-year-old patient who got a BBL in 2015 is now 35 years old. She still likely has the same aesthetic preferences. The difference is that 25-year-olds in 2025 aren’t asking for that,” Dr. Kenawy said.

Even within the same country, class and access to global trends shape beauty ideals. These shifts don’t happen all at once, they trickle through society over decades. And not every standard translates. Khaleeji women embraced lip fillers but didn’t latch onto the slim, athletic look. That’s not what their cultural script prizes. Similarly, natural curly hair may be making a comeback in Egypt, but that trend hasn’t hit Qatar. Most Qatari women don’t have curls to begin with.

Local Nuance

The point is, this aesthetic shift isn’t unfolding the same way everywhere.

In Beirut, cosmetic surgery is practically normalized, but the ideal now leans French-Lebanese: soft tweaks over dramatic reshaping. In Riyadh, procedures are booming (Saudi’s cosmetic market is expected to hit $2.3 billion by 2026) but under the radar, within conservative boundaries. In Cairo, there’s a paradox: the aesthetics market is growing at a CAGR of 5.6%, even as natural beauty and self-love dominate influencer captions. Mhmm.

The contradiction? Sexy, impeccably decorated med spas are opening every month alongside Instagram therapists preaching radical acceptance. It’s as if Gen Z wasn’t confused enough.

Local influencers are starting to push back. Some talk openly about filler regret. Others capitalize on their non-white features: wider noses, darker skin, textured hair. But it’s still niche. The mainstream is still chasing whatever the West rebrands as the “new” natural.

So, where is this headed?

Will we ever see a real break from these cycles, or are we just trapped in a loop of body edits and aesthetic pivots? Is the “natural” look just the latest lie we’re being sold? Will we ever stop overspending for the love of God?

Because real natural beauty—unfiltered, unbought, unedited—isn’t what’s trending. Not yet.

But maybe the better question isn’t just what’s in. It’s who decides. What does it take for Arab women to define beauty on our own terms, for our own lived realities? What does it mean to step outside the global, neocolonial money bag and stop chasing the latest export?

When we do, maybe we can step out on the other side and say goodbye to the Pilates princess and hello to the mirror.